


The Difficult Years

by fawatson



Category: The Charioteer - Mary Renault
Genre: Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1974840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four linked stories detailing Lucy's romance with Colonel Ramsey when Laurie was a teenager and his difficult reaction to it. </p><p>NB: This work is not complete.  Three of the stories have been written and one remains outstanding and will be posted once finished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remember, Remember...

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my_cnnr, one of the moderators of maryrenaultfics at LiveJournal who came up with the overarching title for this series of stories.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy meets Colonel Ramsay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Originally posted to:** maryrenaultfics at LiveJournal on 11/11/2008  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit by them.  
>  **Acknowledgements:** Many thanks to Greer Watson for her suggestions about autumn flowers, especially the Pax rose. Yes, I was able to ‘make something’ of the fact it came out in 1918.  
>  **Author's Notes:** This story is in honour of Remembrance Day. It is a date I think would loom large in Laurie’s personal calendar given Ralph’s and his wartime experiences as well as those of his father and uncle.  
>  Well, to be honest, it started life as a Halloween story, but as you will quickly see when you read it, I’m not very good at ghosts and goblins! Nonetheless, I did manage to incorporate the two (!) prompts. Although it is not the Alec story, My Cnnr hoped for (I hope she will forgive...). Having missed the deadline for Halloween, I then hoped to post this in time for Guy Fawkes Day. 5th November is a bigger celebration than Halloween in England, anyway, and one Laurie would have been very familiar with in his boyhood. Best laid plans, and all that... I missed that date too! On to 11th November, and now it is finished.

Strong arms encircled Lucy, pulling her back to snuggle against a wide chest, while hands stroked lovingly over her swollen body. The baby moved inside, responding to the gentle massage. Lucy rubbed her cheek against the soft pillow, as warm breath exhaled in her ear. 

“My son,” she heard, “take care of my boy.” 

“Dearest,” she whispered, as she turned over with a smile for Michael. 

The cold side of the bed woke her. She lay there for a moment, trying to recapture her dream. It was a chilly dawn, it had rained in the night and the eaves were still dripping; the sound foretold another dismal day. Grey light leaked round the edges of her bedroom curtains, creating shadows in the dark. In the still of early morning, she could hear the mantel clock downstairs chime the hour. From below, a mournful whimper sounded from Gyp in response, loud only in contrast to the quiet. Lucy sighed; he’d been doing that since Laurie had gone back to school, marking each hour of his beloved master’s absence. She supposed it would be another week, at least, before he grew resigned again. Laurie’s dog in spirit, even if she spent more time with him these days.

Time to face the day. Lucy drew back the blankets and swung her feet out of bed, searching by feel for the woolly slippers she kept by the bedside. She shivered as she drew on her dressing gown, and then pulled back the curtains to fully let in light. It was unusually cold for October. Best light the fire downstairs and have a cup of tea before she washed and dressed. 

The fifth step creaked as she trod on it, alerting Gyp who came to greet her at the bottom stair, his tail wagging eagerly. He led the way to the kitchen and went straight to his bowl, picked it up, and brought it to drop at her feet. He sat beside her, looking up, and whined encouragingly. Lucy sighed, and turned away from the sink where she was filling the kettle. There was never any peace until he was fed, and let out to the garden. She watched as he wolfed the food she put down for him. He had such a healthy appetite. He scratched at the door before looking back at her with pleading eyes. A wintery blast blew dead leaves into the kitchen before she could close the door behind him – dreadful day. Lucy went through to the sitting room to start the fire before returning to fill the kettle and put bread under the grill to toast for her own breakfast. 

As she pottered in the kitchen, she ran through a mental list of her tasks for the day. Most important was flowers for the church. It was All Saints tomorrow, and the flowers for this week would need to last well into mid-week so the church still looked festive for Bonfire Night celebrations, not an easy achievement at this time of year when so few plants bloomed, especially given the demand for flowers for Armistice Day that followed a week later. Next week she’d set the Sunday school to making paper flowers for wreaths, which would help, but it would never do to completely denude the garden now. Fresh flowers were so much nicer. Of course it was Mrs Ramsay’s turn to organise Armistice Day this year, but everyone would contribute something. 

Finishing her tea and toast, Lucy set the dirty cup and saucer beside the sink before she made her way upstairs. She washed and dressed quickly, wearing her old brown tweed skirt. It had been her best many years ago. Now the cloth at the waistband looked rubbed and it was seated at the back. She just kept it for doing chores. Lucy teamed it with an old pullover that was patched at the elbows. She’d change before going out, but this would do for gardening. 

Gyp was busy chasing leaves as she got her tools out of the garden shed. Birds called, warning each other; the dog barked in return and periodically made fruitless sorties to catch the feathered intruders to his domain. Some of the flowers she’d hoped to pick looked rather bedraggled after last night’s wind and rain. The Michaelmas daisies wouldn’t do, but the chrysanthemums were all right. At the back, in a sheltered corner by the south-facing wall, she found two buds on the Pax rosebush. She remembered how Michael had brought it home to her one day. His newspaper had sent him to cover the flower show where it made its debut. They’d had no garden then. Initially she’d been angry at the waste of money, until Michael explained he bought it in memory of Ray. The rose had been given pride of place in a pot on the windowsill and been lovingly tended until she brought it back home with her from London. One half open bud went quickly into Lucy’s bucket with the other flowers. Maybe the other would be far enough along in a week. You could never be sure with roses at this time of year. 

She was just finishing planting the tulip bulbs when sudden loud barking heralded the postman’s arrival. Lucy got up to greet him with a smile at the garden gate. One envelope was handed over; the spidery writing on the front announced a letter from Olive. Lucy looked in surprise at the postman. 

“Nothing else?” 

“Not today, Missus, sorry.” 

After bobbing his head politely, the postman went off on the rest of his rounds. His satchel looked heavy with parcels and letters, all for other people. 

No letter from Laurie. Perhaps he’d not had time to write. But the thought had a hollow ring; his housemaster made sure the boys always had time to write home on Friday, to be posted first class in time to arrive in the Saturday post. She’d heard some mothers complain their sons forgot to write, but Laurie’s letters had always been regular. Perhaps he’d thought it too soon. After all, he had only just returned to school after half-term break. Yes, that must be it. She felt it keenly though; he’d never missed after previous visits. It was a sign of how he was changing. Her little boy, a teenager now and little no longer. The way he hadn’t wanted to kiss her and give her a hug when he got off the train, after being away for weeks. His unexpected height; he’d had a growth spurt and for the first time she’d had to look up instead of down. Too grown up now. For the last two years he’d been full of chatter about school friends she’d never met.

Lucy sighed. She’d have to make do with Olive’s letter instead. She placed the cut flowers by the side of the front door, and went in the house to make herself a cup of tea and some mushrooms on toast, before settling down to read. The letter was full of detail about Olive’s plans to visit some cousins in Oxford next week and wittered on pointlessly about her cats. So like Olive really - quite aimless. However it meant she wouldn’t be coming to visit for Armistice Day. Olive sent her condolences: “I know Ray will be close to your thoughts these days. I will remember you, and him, in my prayers.” She meant it too, Lucy thought. It wasn’t just a thing to say; Olive still dutifully got down on her knees each night before going to bed, just as she had as a child. It was reassuring to know some things were constant. 

Lucy went upstairs to change out of her old clothes. She hesitated as she inspected her black wool before taking the skirt down from its hanger. She really could do with a new one, had been planning to replace it this winter, until Laurie had come back from school begging for fencing lessons. He had no idea how much a foil cost. She picked the blouse that would bring out the colour of her eyes. She took care with her hair, arranging it so a curl softened the line of her forehead. Not that there was really any reason, here in the village. There was no one particular to impress here. Still, she liked to know she looked her best. 

Lucy absently patted Gyp who was waiting by the door as she went out of the house. She paused for a moment to fix her hat, surveying her morning’s work with a sense of satisfaction. Oh dear! While she’d been in doors, Gyp had dug a big hole in the flowerbeds, just where she’d planted the tulips. She frowned at the eager dog who was now rolling around on the ground in front of her, wanting his tummy scratched. At the gate she had to be very firm, shutting Gyp into the garden when he tried to follow her. He was not going to church; it was no place for dogs. Lucy set off down the street, bucket of flowers in hand.

Looking round as she let herself into the church, Lucy sighed with relief. She had it to herself today. Good. She’d been a little afraid Mrs Thorpe would be there dusting for tomorrow; she was such a gossip, and not in a cosy way – quite malicious really. But it was quiet, and Lucy let the calm atmosphere seep into her. It was a pretty church, but undistinguished, no special features to draw tourists, just a small stone building added to gradually over the centuries, with plain dark oak pews scratched from use. 

Lucy busied herself first with the main bouquets on the altar and by the door. Then she paused a moment in front of the font, a Victorian addition at the back of the nave. Laurie had been christened there when only a few weeks old, brought home for a special weekend celebration with family. As a child he had loved the curlicues of the elaborately carved wooden cover. She remembered him also tracing in fascination the carvings of dogs and deer in the stone column that supported the basin. Some day she hoped to see his children christened here too, perhaps in the special gown her mother had embroidered for Laurie. She kept it carefully packed away in tissue in the cedar chest at the foot of her bed. 

Lucy had just the rose and a small spray of yellow chrysanthemums left now. She’d saved the colour Ray had liked best. She made her way back to the chancel, stopping by a little brass holder on a ledge underneath the wall plaque commemorating those men lost in the war. Carefully she arranged her bouquet, before bending to sniff the rose. The fingers of one hand traced her brother’s name lightly, Lt. Raymond Lawrence Lethbridge; she assiduously avoided touching the date of his death.

Finished, Lucy left the church, carefully turning off the lights as she went. She had to fight a sudden gust of wind to get the door closed. The path through the churchyard was strewn with leaves that rustled as she walked. They were slippery from last night’s rain so she walked carefully, head down to watch her step. A pungent rotting smell rose to her nose. Lucy sniffed disapprovingly; some people would bring their dogs to church on Sunday, letting them roam free while the service was on. One had dirtied by a gravestone. Well, the handyman would deal with it when he raked the leaves. 

“Penny for the Guy, Mrs Odell?” 

Lucy looked up from latching the church gate to a group of children approaching her. An older boy, in scouting uniform, was in charge of the younger ones. They were pushing a small handcart with a straw figure perched on it, dressed in odd bits of old clothing. Lucy smiled at the children’s high spirits as she fished into her handbag for her purse. 

“Here you are,” she said, handing over a penny and two farthings. “My, you have done a good job of it this year; he looks truly wicked!” 

The figure was painted in lurid colours, with a nasty scowl on his face and an evil cast to one eye. Bat wings had been painted as eyebrows, and a dribble of paint turned into a jagged scar on his cheek. 

As the children lingered, Lucy looked enquiringly at the boy in charge. 

“The thing is, Mrs Odell, I wanted to ask if you couldn’t store him in your shed for a few days. Please? We’re short of space at the village hall, just at the moment. I checked with the vicar, but he’s still full up with donations from the Harvest Festival and said to ask you.”

“I see. Well in that case, best bring him along. The shed is pretty full with Laurie’s bicycle, and the garden equipment, but I’m sure we’ll find space somewhere. It’s only for a week, after all.”

“Thanks, awfully.”

The little troop fell into step behind Lucy as she led the way along the street to her cottage. Excited barking greeted her as she pushed open the gate by the cedar tree and Gyp jumped up to welcome her home.

“Down, Gyp, down! Oh, no!”

She pushed at the eager dog whose muddy paws were leaving marks on her nice clean skirt. Gyp licked her hands and barked, thinking it all a lovely game, bouncing round her in circles.

“Down boy!” 

The voice came from behind Lucy, its masculine tones commanding and sure. Responding to the sure voice of authority, Gyp sat instantly. Lucy looked around in surprise. 

“Madam”

The man greeting her stood tall; he had tipped his hat in a respectful gesture. She recognised him from the previous week in church. He had escorted his mother and they’d been briefly introduced after the service.

“Colonel Ramsay, isn’t it?” Lucy said in acknowledgement. She remembered being told his regiment had just been posted back to York; they’d been away on service.

“Yes, Mrs Odell. And what have we here?” He gestured toward the children, who were looking at him somewhat wide-eyed.

“Guy Fawkes, sir. We’ve been out collecting for the fireworks.” said the boy in charge. “Mrs Odell is letting us store him in her shed.”

The Colonel frowned at the boy. “Well, you should keep your dog under better control; he almost knocked the lady down.”

“No, no, Colonel Ramsay,” said Lucy, “he’s my dog. Well,” she added hastily at his surprised look, “my son’s anyway.” She blushed. “I’m afraid I can never get him to mind me.”

“I see.” He snapped his fingers. At the familiar sound, Gyp came to his side to sniff enquiringly at the visiting human. 

“Sit,” came the command, and the dog responded promptly. His tongue reached out to lick the hand in front of him, and he was rewarded with a gentle hand stroking the back of his head and ears.

“He is a fine animal,” said Colonel Ramsay, “if a little rambunctious for a lady such as you.” He smiled down at Lucy. “Shall I help them put away the Guy? And then, if I may invite myself in for a cup of tea, there is something I would like to discuss with you.”

“Why yes, if you would like,” Lucy replied. 

She led the group into the garden and down the path to the shed, and watched bemused for a moment, while he organised the children quickly into a working party. The bulging shed disgorged its contents, disorderly and unsorted, to be repacked with military precision so that everything, and more – the Guy included now – went back inside neatly. While this was happening Lucy quickly nipped into the kitchen to put the kettle on, listening to the sounds of the orderly working party at the end of her garden as she went. She emerged a few minutes later, hair now neatly tidied and skirt sponged clean. She held a plate of currant buns, one to be given to each child.

“Do come in, Colonel,” invited Lucy, when the children had left. 

“Thank you, Madam.” His manners were punctilious.

Lucy watched him carefully, as she carried on polite conversation, while serving from her best teapot. He looked out of place, perched on a sofa her sitting room, surrounded by her knick-knacks and doilies, sipping from her fine china. He barely touched the fairy cakes she offered, declining politely. 

“Too sugary,” he explained. 

She blushed in dismay, offered a potted meat sandwich instead, and was pleased when he accepted. The Colonel explained his mother’s health had been delicate recently, and she had decided she would like a little help organising the flowers for the 11th November, “if Mrs Odell would be so kind...?” He didn’t stay long after that, but left Lucy a brief note from his mother, inviting her to tea the next afternoon. She was to bring Gyp, and they would go for a walk with the dog, after the visit with his mother.

As she went back into the house and shut the door behind her, Lucy turned over the events of the day again and again in her mind. Could she be misreading things? Mrs Ramsay had looked quite well the previous week....

The house was so empty. It always felt that away just after Laurie went back to school; it felt doubly so now without the Colonel’s presence. As she moved to her chair by the sitting room fire, the gramophone caught Lucy’s eye. Perhaps some music; yes that would be nice. Something cheerful. Lucy hesitated over one record. No... no, not Chopin. She’d quite liked his tunes until she’d heard about how he’d lived with.... No... There – Mozart. This one would do. He’d been respectably married, from all accounts quite a love match. Much nicer. 

Gyp stretched out by Lucy’s feet, gave a great yawn, and promptly fell asleep, his head pillowed on his paws. He had seemed to quite like the Colonel.... Laurie always maintained Gyp was a good judge of character...

It was Lucy’s last thought before she too joined the dog in slumber.


	2. We Wish You a Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurie learns about his mother's romance with Colonel Ramsay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Originally posted to:** maryrenaultfics at LiveJournal on 27/12/2008  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit from them.  
>  **Acknowledgements:** Many many thanks to my sister Greer Watson who did more than mere ‘beta-ing’ this time round, with her helpful suggestions and editing. This one owes a lot to her.

“Laurie! You didn’t forget we are going to the Ramsays’ today, did you?”

His mother’s voice greeted him as Laurie came in the kitchen door, Gyp following closely on his heels. The door banged shut behind him in counterpoint to his mother’s exasperation. 

“Sorry, Mum,” replied Laurie with the kind of studied nonchalance that deceived no one. “It was just such a beautiful morning. So I took Gyp for a walk and lost track of the time. 

“Well it’s not a nice day now. Just look at that mess!” 

Lucy’s voice had shifted to outright irritation now, with some justification. The clear blue sky of early morning had long since clouded over, and for the last hour it had been raining. It was the kind of steady fine rain that feels light but lasts for hours and soaks everything – including dog and boy. Laurie was dripping everywhere and as for Gyp! He had just shaken himself vigorously, spraying water all over, and the aroma of wet dog filled the room. Laurie kept busy towelling Gyp dry with an old cloth. He was using it, Lucy felt sure, to avoid even looking at her. 

They must have been quite far away when the rain started for them to have taken a full hour to get home. Either that, or Laurie had decided to stay out despite the weather, perhaps hoping it would stop and they could continue their ramble. Lucy wasn’t quite sure which possibility bothered her more. Laurie had just been so _difficult_ this holiday, one minute snappish and the next sullen, unwilling to do more than grunt. And she’d been _so_ looking forward to this holiday. Instead, she was beginning to look forward to the start of the new term, something she normally dreaded.

“Why do I have to go anyway? I’ve got my own things I wanted to do.”

“Now, don’t start that again,” Lucy warned. “You’re going, and that’s final.”

“But I wanted to go over to see Simon,” protested Laurie. 

“You can do that tomorrow, or the day after next,” came the implacable reply. “I don’t know why you keep going on this way, Laurie. I told you a week ago we were going to the Ramsays’ today. Colonel Ramsay wants to meet you.” 

“Well I don’t want to meet him,” Laurie muttered grumpily, but under his breath so his mother wouldn’t hear. He knew such rudeness would be met with swift correction. 

More openly he protested, “But Mrs Ramsay’s _your_ friend, not mine, and there will be nothing for me to do. I could stay home and read if you don’t want me to go over to Simon’s. I’ve got that new book Great Uncle Edward gave me for Christmas.”

“No, Laurie.” Lucy’s tone was firm. “Besides, Mrs Ramsay has her granddaughter visiting as well, and she’s around your age, so you’ll be good company for one another. Now go and get changed; we’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Laurie stood and looked at his mother, a gloomy expression on his face. Clearly there would be no last minute reprieve. His tread was heavy and slow as he made his way upstairs to change. In frustration, he threw his wet clothes in a heap on the floor, and pulled on dry ones. He cast a longing look at the book he really wanted to read and headed to the hallway, only to pause at the top of the stairs. It was a slim pocket edition... perhaps... Laurie headed back to his room, picked up the book, and tucked it into his trousers. Perhaps he just might find a chance to read it – start it at least. This time he took the stairs two at a time, bounding down noisily. The sooner they got going, the sooner it would be over with. 

His mother was waiting at the bottom, coat and hat on. She looked him over with a critical eye, then pulled her comb out of her handbag and reached over to part his hair properly. He jerked back. 

“I can do it!” he said. “You don’t have to treat me like some baby, you know.”

She held the comb out to him. “Well do it yourself then. I shouldn’t have to remind you like some baby, now you’re fourteen.”

Laurie grimaced but said nothing. There was no point saying anything to grown-ups, he thought. They just never listened. He shrugged on his good jacket and opened the front door. 

“Your hat, Laurie! And your scarf!” 

“Don’t need ‘em.” His back was to her and he was already out the door.

Lucy sighed. There was no point in arguing; he wouldn’t listen. She picked up Gyp’s lead from the small hallway table and bent to fasten it on the eager dog, who barked once in encouragement. Laurie looked round in surprise as she joined him on the step and handed the lead to him. 

“He can go with us?” 

“Yes, the Ramsays like dogs,” she said. “But he must be on a lead, Laurie.”

“Oh,” said Laurie but his expression was lighter. Things were looking up; maybe the afternoon wouldn’t be a dead waste after all. 

Mother and son set off down the street. Laurie was a few steps ahead with Gyp, while Lucy followed behind underneath her umbrella. She picked her way carefully, avoiding puddles. Laurie strode confidently, periodically stopping as Gyp wanted to explore some interesting smell by the side of the path. The Ramsay house was at the other end of the village, but that was not far and they arrived within a few minutes. 

Someone peering out through the window noticed their arrival and, as he walked up the path, Laurie heard a girl’s voice calling excitedly, “They’re here!” They had barely reached the doorstep before the front door opened. A tall man stood holding the door in welcome. Obviously not Mrs Ramsay: this must be that Colonel his mother had mentioned, Laurie thought. The one she’d said was visiting. 

Behind him a girl in a frilly dress was peering round the frame of the sitting room door. He thought she must have been the one he’d heard announcing their arrival. He supposed she was the one he was supposed to be company for. Laurie looked at her closely; she had ringlets tied with ribbons. Lord! She looked like one of those silly giggly types; some of the chaps at school had sisters like that and they were a constant embarrassment when families visited.

“Here – let me help with those wet things.” 

Laurie turned to see Colonel Ramsay smiling down at his mother, helping her with her coat. She was blushing! That was odd. Gyp gave a small bark and shuffled on his bottom. He was sitting but clearly impatient; his tail wagged eagerly. Laurie looked at his dog, puzzled. 

“James, this is my son, Laurie.” 

Laurie turned his attention back to the Colonel and his mother as he was introduced. 

The Colonel extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Hello, sir,” said Laurie politely, returning the handshake. 

“Gyp.” To Laurie’s surprise the Colonel held his hand out to Gyp who stood up and licked it. 

“Good boy,” said the Colonel, patting the dog on the head. 

“You know him already?” Laurie looked astonished. 

His mother gave a little laugh. “They are old friends, Laurie. The Colonel helps me walk him every weekend.” 

“Let’s go through,” and with this the Colonel ushered them into the sitting room. To Laurie’s indignation, Gyp abandoned his side to pace eagerly at the Colonel’s heel. He settled on the floor between the Colonel’s chair and the stool Laurie was given to sit on, rested his head on his paws, and looked completely at home. 

As the afternoon wore on Laurie’s bewilderment deepened. He knew Mrs Ramsay. She’d always lived in the village, although he’d never had much to do with her. She was even older than his mother. The rest of the people were new to him though. Mrs Ramsay’s daughter and her husband had come over for the day from their home in Harrogate, bringing with them their three children, the girl he’d seen peeping round the door, and twin boys, still not shortened, who seemed to be passed back and forth between all the women, including his mother. All the adults seemed to be speaking some script known only to them. The girl just sat and stuffed herself with sugary cakes, saying nothing. 

Still, the tea was good, especially the shortbread, which was nice and crisp and buttery. Surreptitiously, Laurie fed Gyp some of the loathsome bloater paste sandwiches and was rewarded with his dog’s devotion. Gyp rested a heavy head on his lap in hope of more; and Laurie, bored with grown-up conversation about people he didn’t know, ignored the Ramsays and sat stroking his dog and daydreaming. 

“Laurie!” 

He looked up from Gyp, startled at the sharp tone in his mother’s voice. 

“I _said,_ do you want to go with Violet?”

“Who?”

“Violet.” 

His mother nodded over towards the girl in the frilly dress. Laurie’s heart sank; she’d want to do something silly and girlish like play with dolls. 

“She’s offered to take you off to see the kittens. Mrs Ramsay’s Tibbles had kittens two days ago.” 

“Oh, um, yes, thanks.” 

Laurie scrambled off his seat and snapped his fingers at Gyp to follow him. 

“No you can’t bring _him,_ ” said Violet immediately. “Tibbles won’t want a dog around her babies.” 

This was obviously true once you thought of it; but Laurie still looked uncertain. He couldn’t go off and leave his dog on his own in a room full of strangers! Gyp whined and pushed his nose against Laurie’s hand, clearly confused by the indecision. 

“Here, boy!” 

Colonel Ramsay snapped his fingers. Gyp’s ears pricked. He crossed to the Colonel’s chair and sat down facing him, looking eager. 

“Good boy,” praised Colonel Ramsay. 

He stroked the dog’s ears until Gyp rested his head on the man’s knee. 

“There. He can stay with me for a bit while you go with Violet,” said the Colonel. “He’ll be all right.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

What else was there to say? But Laurie felt far from thankful and rather more than confused as he followed Violet out of the room and down the corridor to the utility room at back of the kitchen. What right had that man to call Gyp to him that way! And how _could_ Gyp have gone to him so readily?

Violet was kneeling down in front of a large wicker laundry basket lined with shredded newspaper. 

“Aren’t they sweet?” she cooed. “We mustn’t pick them up – just look at them. Their eyes aren’t open yet and they need to stay in their nest. But aren’t they just adorable!”

Laurie looked at the kittens nestled next to their mother. She was a large fat contented-looking tortoiseshell cat who took up most of the space in the basket. He’d never seen a cat so large before. The kittens looked incredibly tiny in comparison. He wondered the mother cat didn’t roll over them in her sleep and accidentally smother them.

“I just _love_ babies,” gushed Violet, “don’t you? Do you think _they’ll_ have a baby? I’d love it if they did.” 

“What?” 

“After they get married.”

“After _who_ get married?”

“Uncle James and your mother, silly.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Laurie. “What are you talking about?” 

He felt quite indignant; she really was an incredibly silly girl. Beneath his surface irritation, however, suspicion lurked. His mother had been acting rather odd lately. 

“Don’t you _know_?” asked Violet. “How can she be your mother and you not _know._ ”

“Know what?” 

“Well nothing’s definitely _settled_ yet, of course. I mean there’s been no announcement. But everyone’s expecting Uncle James to pop the question to her by the end of the holidays, all going well. I mean why ever do you think you’re _here?_ ” 

Violet’s tone was arch, and she had a smirk on her face that made Laurie just itch to smack her. Oh, she was a _horrible_ girl! It must all be nothing. Such a dreadful person couldn’t possibly know more about his own mother than he did.

“And why do you think we’re coming to you for New Year’s celebrations? So we can meet all _your_ family.” 

Laurie’s heart sank; this had an awful sound of verisimilitude. Aunt Olive and Great Uncle Edward were expected for New Year. 

“I don’t think you should gossip,” Laurie said firmly. He strove for an aloof superior tone, as he sought to quell his doubts. 

“Why not?” asked Violet. “It’s not hurting anyone. Aren’t you happy for them?” He stared at her. “Don’t you _want_ to have a father?”

“You’re too young to understand,” Laurie said, in lofty tones. “I think we should be getting back to the sitting room now.” 

“Well, be like that then,” Violet said indignantly. She flounced off.

Laurie followed more slowly. His mind was racing round and round in circles. Could it be true? It couldn’t be! (Could it?) But, as he walked along the corridor, there was a knock on the door, and everyone piled out of the sitting room to listen to the carollers who had called. There was laughter as they debated which song to ask for. His mother’s eyes met the Colonel’s, and she gave him a warm smile. It was too like the special smile that was just for Laurie. He felt a little chill. The carollers started to sing, and everyone else crowded close to hear; but he hung back behind.

“We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas...”

Even as he watched, Laurie saw the Colonel’s arm slip round his mother’s back, and pull her close to his side. (It _mustn’t_ be true.) Her face was hidden from him, and she leaned in to the strong man at her side. (But it must be.) 

“Good tidings we bring to you and your kin...”

No kin of his. Laurie glowered. He waited silently till the carollers had finished, then collected Gyp, gave a quick apology and transparent excuse, and left. He was aware of his mother’s distress at his rudeness. He saw the Colonel’s lips tighten. He was _pleased_ to see the rest of the Ramsays take offence.

He knew he was acting badly. In fact, he was rather amazed at his temerity. But he was pleased just the same. Most of all...he was determined.


	3. Mother's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy and Colonel Ramsay go to visit Laurie at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Originally posted to :** maryrenaultfics at LiveJournal on 10/05/2009   
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit from them.  
>  **Author’s Notes:** In North America Mother’s Day is in May, but in England it falls on Mothering Sunday in March.  
>  **Acknowledgements:** Many thanks to my sister Greer for beta-reading.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” asked the Colonel.

“Nothing,” said Lucy. “Why do you ask?”

Colonel Ramsay smiled indulgently. She had been sitting in the cafe for the past few minutes looking down at her hands while twisting the ring on her finger back and forth. Not smiling at it with that pleased look, the way he’d sometimes found her, but a bit nervous, with a pensive look on her face this time. His Lucy. Something was bothering her and he had a pretty good idea what it probably was – or who, in point of fact. 

“How did Laurie take the news, my dear?” asked the Colonel.

“Well…” Lucy’s voice trailed off. She tried again, “I didn’t _exactly_ tell him everything.”

“I know it must have been difficult, my love, and believe me, I do actually understand his feelings. Laurie’s had you all to himself for so long it’s bound to feel strange to him at first. And it’s not as if he’s really had much opportunity to get to know me, away at school as he’s been. He’s bound to be protective of you.” Colonel Ramsay was prepared to feel some sympathy for Laurie, in the circumstances.

“Hmm, yes….” Lucy returned to twisting the ring. It really was very pretty. Nothing too ostentatious – a family heirloom, in fact, with a slightly bigger diamond in the middle flanked by smaller sapphires either side. James had offered to buy her something new, if she preferred, but she had known he would like her to wear his grandmother’s ring. It was pretty; and anyway, the blue stones suited her colouring. 

Colonel Ramsay smiled again before lifting her left hand to kiss. “It looks well on you,” he said. He folded her small hand in his large one, bringing it down to rest in his lap. His thumb caressed her wrist; he could feel her pulse fluttering quickly. My, she was anxious. 

“Whatever did he write to have you in such a taking?” The Colonel was starting to feel a bit irritated with Laurie. He could understand he would be concerned for his mother – well that was one of the reasons for this trip, after all, to help reassure Laurie’s natural protective instincts – but he really should not have upset his mother so.

“He didn’t write anything,” Lucy said. Her voice was slow and reluctant. “I didn’t tell him we were engaged.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Colonel Ramsay expressed his surprised. “Lucy, my dear, why ever not?”

“Well, you see, he sounded so excited in the last few letters he wrote, first telling me all about his swimming match and then that he’d been chosen for the school team, and, and…. Well, really, I just didn’t know how to say it. And anyway, I thought when he saw you with me and the ring, he’d just _know_.”

“Lucy, you did at least tell him I was coming today, didn’t you? And that we have been spending a lot of time together the last few months?”

But the fact she hadn’t was writ large in the slightly guilty, defensive look on her face. Colonel Ramsay’s heart sank. Clearly she hadn’t. Dear, dear. All his own protective instincts rose. Look at her, now, chin quivering and eyes pleading. She was such a sensitive little soul, his Lucy. It had been so difficult for her, a widow raising a son, and a strong-willed boy such as Laurie clearly had proved himself to be. 

“I just told him I had a nice surprise for him.”

“There, there, my dear,” said the Colonel, reassuring, giving her hand a little squeeze, “we’ll tell him together.”

Lucy smiled up at him, relieved. 

“But, my dear, no ring today, I fear.” 

Lucy drooped with disappointment. “But –“

“No, Lucy. It won’t do. You’re right; he would guess as soon as he saw it, and it’s not fair to Laurie. We don’t want a repeat of New Year, now do we?” And he lifted her hand to plant another little kiss on it while he slipped the ring off her finger. He took out his pocket-handkerchief, carefully wrapped the precious object within, and replaced it in his breast pocket. Lucy’s hand rested limp in her lap afterward; she looked down at the bare ring finger discontentedly. She’d been so looking forward to the looks on the other mothers’ faces when they saw her with the Colonel. She knew they’d immediately look to her hand and she’d been anticipating their reactions to her engagement.

The Colonel smiled again at her, oblivious to her dissatisfaction, pleased he had averted a potential crisis. He shuddered inwardly at the thought of how Laurie might have reacted if he had not intervened. Laurie had been thoroughly rude at New Year. His family had been quite upset by his behaviour, and he’d been shocked that Lucy’s son could act so. Until, that is, he’d realised Laurie hadn’t known anything before Violet told him. His lips tightened. She really was a spoiled little cat, that child, even if she was his niece. It was not how Laurie should have learned about him and went a long way to explain his behaviour. Not that it excused it, mind you. But it was understandable. After all, he had never really had a good father figure in his life. Of course he went to a good school, which made all the difference, but it was not the same as having a father. Never mind. That would soon change. 

Colonel Ramsay dropped his hand down to his side and patted Gyp on his head, stroking his ears. Laurie would be pleased to see his dog again. It was the reason they had driven. Gyp couldn’t have come had they travelled by train. It meant they had had to start off quite early as they were travelling slowly with regular stops to let the dog have a run, but they were in no rush. It was a fine March day and this was better for Lucy, too. It meant she could have a break to stretch her legs and a cup of tea while he walked the dog. And one could avoid the jostling crowds, beggars, and touts that always congregated at railway stations, which made travel so stressful for a delicately bred woman like Lucy.

Tea break over, the Colonel carefully handed Lucy back into the car, making sure she was settled comfortably before setting off on the last leg of the journey. They would not be there in time for the formal start of the day. Few parents did arrive that early but there were always one or two, usually doting mothers of the younger boys in their first year, or parents who had had to travel such a long distance they had come the evening before, taking rooms in the nearby town. The school acknowledged their devotion through a formal service in the school chapel honouring Mothering Sunday (even though it was actually only Saturday). Little posies made from primroses were handed round to all mothers who attended the service, distinguishing them from parents who arrived later in the day. Lucy had never managed to get one of those posies, her previous school visits had always been subject to the inconveniences of train schedules. She’d rather hoped to get one this year, thinking the car would get her there faster. She hadn’t calculated on two stops to walk Gyp. 

The car turned in at the school gates an hour later. A long straight drive led through beautifully kept grounds and playing fields to the impressive Victorian school façade. Lucy remembered walking the distance last year; it had taken her a good 20 minutes. The car seemed to reach the top of the drive in no time at all, even at the slow speed the Colonel was driving. There was a little queue to get into the field that had been reserved for parents. Quite a number had chosen to arrive in late morning. It allowed them an opportunity to meet briefly with their sons’ housemasters before joining the boys for luncheon. After lunch there would be a drill display by the school’s OTC followed by the obligatory special cricket match between the Old Boys and the First Eleven, before the day drew to a close.

Lucy smiled her way through the somewhat arch comments from other mothers who greeted her as she walked from the parking area to the front of the school. She enjoyed the speculative looks they were sending to the Colonel. She relished the protective way he tucked her arm into his. He was so distinguished looking in his uniform, and so tall. Not like that Mr Harris: short, balding and overweight.

Gyp wasn’t allowed into the school buildings. Quite a number of parents brought family pets, which, while not exactly encouraged, was nonetheless accepted. A few years before there had been a move to try to ban animals. However, one or two very influential parents had made their feelings known to the school governors. Thereafter, the Head had made arrangements for their supervision when parents met with housemasters. At the entrance, stood a blond boy with a clipboard. As a member of the senior school, he was clearly in charge of a small group of younger boys, each of whom had some pet. Gyp’s lead was handed over. He went obediently; he was so much better behaved since James had been working with him. Lucy shuddered to think how he might have behaved six months ago – not that she would have brought him, of course, not on the train, all this distance. 

After a brief wait they were ushered into the housemaster’s office to discuss Laurie’s progress. Lucy blushed charmingly as she introduced Colonel Ramsay to Mr Stuart, explaining their news. She felt a little frisson of pride, as Laurie’s marks were discussed and his recent elevation to the school’s swimming team was confirmed. He was young for this honour, but his talent had won him a coveted position in the squad. Mr Stuart tactfully kept to himself the fact that this was less because Laurie’s swimming abilities were outstanding, and more that most of the boys in the upper years displayed markedly lacklustre swimming skills, leaving a place open for a boy from the lower-middle school. True, Laurie was good at swimming, but the best athletes in this school tended to go in for cricket. 

“I am expecting to leave at the end of this year,” Mr Stuart said, “to take up a position as Head at Fairlea Hall in Dorset. But I feel sure Laurie will do well in the future. He is quite a solidly good student all round, and a sensible and serious lad. Perhaps a bit solitary by nature, but he has several good friends, nonetheless.”

“Do you know yet who will be taking over the house from you?” asked Colonel Ramsay.

“No, I believe the Head is advertising for the post. No doubt he will find a suitable candidate. Anyway, I mustn’t keep you any longer, Mrs Odell. You will be wanting to see your son, just as I am certain he is waiting eagerly for your visit.”

He stood up and extended his hand, first to the parent and then to her escort, before showing the pair out of his office. He wondered. He had his doubts about just what Laurie would make of this visit. The boy was going through that awkward stage they all went through at some point. He suspected Mrs Odell would find him much changed, even in the couple of months since Christmas holidays. Mothers always did find it rather a shock when their children started to grow up. He shook his head slightly. No time to think of that now, though. Carter’s parents were next. He pulled a folder out of the stack on his desk to refresh his memory before going to greet them. Ah yes, good marks in mathematics but a definite weakness in the classics and an amazingly poor grasp of literature – needed quite a bit more work there. Not surprising, he supposed, given the family’s business background. He put the Odells from his mind as he considered what he wanted to say to Carter’s father, a rather large blustering man with high expectations for his only son.

Lucy stepped proud as she exited the building after this meeting. She thanked the boy who had taken Gyp while she’d been inside, and smiled down, for once feeling in complete harmony with Laurie’s beloved pet. Gyp looked up and gave two short sharp barks in greeting, then ventured to lick her hand. It was as if he could sense how happy she was, Lucy thought, wonderingly. 

“Oh James, what a lovely day it is.” Lucy rubbed her head lightly against his shoulder, just for a moment, before pulling back to a more proper distance and looking up into her companion’s face. 

“Pleased my dear?”

“Oh yes.” She sighed with satisfaction. “I could not have asked for a better report. I had such worries after Laurie was so _difficult_ at Christmas, but now I just know everything is going to be just fine.” 

Looking down at her, James thought she had never looked so beautiful before. She was always pretty, but just now – just now she looked completely fulfilled. 

Lucy smiled again, full of confidence. “Let’s go and find Laurie.”


End file.
